Emotional Epiphany
by California smells funny
Summary: The war is over Harry Potter is living in London with good friends and a good job. But it takes a face from the past to rid him of his nightmares...


**Emotional Epiphany**

_The figure approached, its face concealed by its black hood. Its walk was a shambling, threatening advance; immense power was hidden in its silent step. Without apparent haste, it reached its quarry and drew to a dignified halt. It slowly began to draw back its hood-_

Harry Potter woke up in a cold sweat and fumbled for his glasses. It was the same nightmare again: the same one that taunted him every night.

He slowly made an effort to calm his breathing, and looked around the room. Yep, just a nightmare. He was still in his room, in his flat, and Voldemort was nowhere to be seen. It was stupid really; he had more dreams about the Dark Lord now he had been vanquished than he had ever had when Voldemort was alive.

Glancing at the clock, he decided it was not worth going back to sleep; he had work in an hour, so he might as well get up.

---

The day passed without event. Most days in the Ministry of Magic's library were like that. That was why Harry enjoyed working there so much: it was quiet, no one recognised him, the hours were good, and he could always sneak in a little private study. Nothing to do with defence against the dark arts – he'd had enough of that to last him a lifetime. No, it was mostly books on history or magical creatures that he chose to read.

Not only were the hours good, but reliable too. He needed regular closing times on days when, like today, he was seeing Manda after work.

At four thirty, he took the floo line out of the building – he was still not much enamoured of the method of transport, but the Ministry did not allow employees to disapparate from the premises, for fear of splinchers suing the organisation. A matter of seconds later, he stepped out into a prettily decorated waiting room, with a few chairs, a small pile of magazines, and a peach-coloured door. He sat down, and a few moments later, the door opened.

"Harry?" A woman's head emerged. She smiled. "On time as always!"

Harry smiled back. "Hi, Manda." He still harboured a slight feeling of self-consciousness at the fact he was seeing a shrink at the tender age of eighteen, but hey, she helped him.

He stood up and made his way into the other room, where he took a seat on the cream divan that dominated half the space. Manda settled herself down too, running a hand over her dark blonde bob. "So, how are you?"

He shrugged. "OK, I guess. Work was good. Nothing much happening." He endured her piercing gaze for about three seconds before he cracked. "And I had the dream again last night."

"Right," Manda nodded. "Well, at least your brain is… consistent, if nothing else."

He smiled a little, her relaxed manner putting him at ease. After six months, he had slowly become accustomed to talking about his thoughts with her. In some ways, she was as much a friend as a psychiatrist.

"So," she started, "anything particular you want to talk about today?"

Harry leant back against the seat and shut his eyes briefly. "I don't know. I guess I've pretty much adjusted to life the way it is now. I mean, I miss… people… occasionally, but it's not so bad. If I could just get rid of the dreams, I'd be fine."

Manda suddenly found herself watching his face as he spoke, and reprimanded herself. She did have a mild crush on Harry, but then again, so did everyone who liked guys, and then a few others too. It was a shame for the world's women that Harry was one of those people who _only_ liked guys.

She quickly yanked her wayward brain back on track. "You miss 'people'? Who do you mean? You're still in touch with Ron and Hermione, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he replied slowly. "I just mean… I kind of miss the way things used to be. Oh god, it's basic school-leaver's anxiety, isn't it?" He grinned sheepishly. "Fabulous, huh? So my great Problem turns out to be that I miss my school days."

Manda narrowed her eyes momentarily. "I think… that sort of makes sense. Not necessarily in exactly the same way most people would feel that, but… maybe it's just because you never really got to finish your school years properly. Most people would consider what happened to you a pretty screwed up way to finish school."

Harry bit his lip. "That sounds right. I mean, as soon as exams were over, it was 'darn, we're under siege', then we all had to wait for what we knew was coming, and then… and then…" He trailed off, staring fixedly at the wall.

Manda shot him a concerned look. "You don't have to go over it all again if you don't want. I know it's not your favourite memory."

"It's OK. I think it might kind of help to get it all straight in my head again." He crossed his hands in his lap and thought back to seventh year. "So yeah, it did start with exams, and then that was over. I guess we all knew that something bad was coming, and then the Dark Side were just all around the school, and that was… that was it, really. Then we had to wait. That was the worst part, just waiting for it all to happen while they got all the younger students out through that tiny closet…"

Manda noticed his sudden silence, and tried to ease him back into his story by asking a fairly inconsequential question. "That was the apparating closet in Dumbledore's office, right?"

"Yep. It took ages to get all of them out safely. Then it was just us… just those of us who were going to fight him. I suppose it was better once the waiting was over. We just knew we had a battle to win, and that was it. I never thought I'd come out of it alive, Manda. And then the night before…"

He trailed off again. Manda frowned. He had done this the first time he told her what happened. What had happened the night before the battle that was too horrible for him to tell her? But she didn't ask.

"I don't remember much of the actual day. All I remember was afterwards, when I knew I'd killed him, and then we found out who was still… still alive, and then… it was all over. And I left. I can't even remember what I did to finish it!" He was in tears at this point, and Manda felt guilty for bringing it all up again.

But what was so terrible about vanquishing Voldemort? She had a sneaking suspicion that the key was in what had happened the night before the battle, but seeing him this upset, she couldn't face asking. Instead, she recalled the thing she had meant to tell him.

"Harry?" He looked up, running his sleeve over his eyes before putting his glasses back on. "I meant to ask you something. I have another client who was… in the final battle, like you. I wondered if you might like to meet him. I really think it would help both of you if you could talk about your experiences. I asked him last time I saw him, and he said he'll do it if you will. What do you think?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "I guess… that would be OK. It might help."

Manda smiled gently. "Great. Is…" She glanced at a calendar on the wall. "Is Friday good for you? Five o'clock?"

He gave a small nod. "That's fine."

---

At five o'clock on Friday, he was back in her office. The mystery man hadn't arrived yet; Harry wondered how long he would be. He had appreciated the later appointment, as it gave him a chance to go home after work, have a snack and change his clothes. He'd also needed the time to try and make sense of his last dream. This time, confusingly, the figure had been running away from him, and he'd been trying to follow.

He waited for about five minutes, exchanging small talk with Manda, until there was a knock on the door. Manda excused herself, opened the door and went out. She didn't close it, and Harry heard her having a brief, muffled conversation with the new arrival.

"Sorry I'm late, but the taxi got held up. You know how I like to indulge in a little Muggle culture now and then," said a male voice. Harry heard Manda give her soft laugh, then she shut the door.

A few minutes later, the other man must have been suitably prepped for the meeting, and the door opened. Manda came back in, followed by…

Harry didn't have the nerve to look at their face straight away, so he started at the feet and worked his way up from there. Good start, black Vans trainers, dark jeans, black sweater – polo neck – and…

He knew that blond-framed face. He'd recognise it anywhere. It was imprinted on his mind: the face from the night before the battle after.

His gaze took in the familiar features, then he looked into the man's eyes. They looked right at each other for a moment, before the shock took over, and Harry succumbed to the humiliating faint that so often claimed him since his third year of school.

When he opened his eyes, the other man was sitting on the divan. "Well, well, Potter. Still having those woozy fits?"

His expression hardened. "Like you can talk, Malfoy. You don't look so awake yourself." He was rewarded with a venomous look.

Manda was looking back and forth between them. "You two… know each other?"

Malfoy sneered slightly, but Harry was intrigued to see less malevolence in it than he might have expected. "You could say that. We have… history."

Harry dug his fingernails into his palm. "Too right we have history."

Manda looked distinctly flustered; she was seriously beginning to wonder what she might have started. "Maybe you could try and expand on that?"

"We had… a romantic involvement," the blond began. "It, ah, turned a little pear-shaped."

Harry shot back quickly: "You mean you screwed it up! I used to think we had something. You thought we did too."

Malfoy shrugged. "Maybe I did."

Harry gave him a black look, but his glare was somewhat weakened by the tremble in his bottom lip. "Then why the hell did you chuck me?"

Malfoy's countenance weakened. "I…"

Harry's eyes were filled with remembered hurt. Manda was inwardly cursing herself for her 'bright idea'. "Why, Draco?"

The inadvertent use of his first name hit Draco like a sockful of pebbles. He bit his lip and took a deep breath. "I had my reasons. I don't think we should drag this all up again."

"No," Harry shook his head resolutely.

"Yes!" Draco snapped back. "For god's sake, do you really want to go through all this?"

"I'm not letting you get out of this! Why did you just suddenly stop loving me?"

Manda was shaking her head to herself. This really had been a lousy idea.

Draco's reply came out before he could stop it. "I never stopped loving you!"

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Then why, on everything that is bloody sacred, did you break up with me the night before I was 'facing my freaking destiny'? I expected to die the next day, and when you told me it was over, I wanted to!"

Manda swallowed hard. So this was the mysterious night before the battle.

Draco twisted his fingers into his hair. "That's exactly why I did it, you idiot! I was going down the suicidal spy route; do you really think I wanted you worrying about me dying when you were supposed to be saving the world?"

Harry was speechless. "Eee…eep…" He took several deep breaths. "Is that… is that really why you did it?"

"Yes," Draco answered in a much softer voice. "Then afterwards, you disappeared. I knew you'd never forgive me, so what was the point in chasing after you? You would have just slammed the door in my face! I couldn't do that to you."

Harry looked at him for a long moment. Then he spoke. "I forgive you."

That was clearly the last thing Draco had been expecting. "I'm so sorry I messed up. Thank you."

A small smirk appeared on Harry's face. "So," he said, a hint of a tease in his voice, "you never stopped loving me, huh?"

A tiny laugh escaped the blond man. "I guess not."

As his smile grew, Harry suddenly reeled like he'd been hit. "Oh my god! I get it now! I think…" He was talking to Manda, but suddenly he realised what he was about to say would make no sense for either her or Draco. "Look, Draco, since… that day, I've had nightmares… about Voldemort. He's always walking towards me. But last night I had a dream that there was a person walking away from me, and I was trying to follow. It didn't make any sense… But now I think…"

Draco raised his eyes in realisation. "That was what happened. I was leaving and you came after me, but I ran…" He closed his eyes for a second. Then he opened them and stood up. "But I'm not running away now." He sat down right next to Harry, and reached for his hand. Harry took it, completing the old gesture they had performed so many times.

Harry lifted a hand and pushed a strand of blond hair off his old lover's face. "Have you eaten?"

Draco's reply sounded a little wary. "No…"

Harry smiled. "Then how does dinner sound?"

"It sounds great. Of course, it would sound better if it was followed by a drink at your place…"

Harry raised one eyebrow. "Only if you're buying the wine."

Draco elbowed him good-naturedly and stood up. "Thanks for this, Manda." He eyed the shell-shocked psychiatrist. "I guess we're pretty much done here, and I think going home early would do you good." And with that, he and Harry walked out the door. "Oh, by the way, Potter, you can wave goodbye to those nightmares… Your metaphorical comfort blanket is back."

Harry's soft reply, accompanied by a hint of a laugh, floated back in through the door. "Missed you, C.B."


End file.
